


Finding Owen (working title)

by CeruleanMisha



Category: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-07-04 05:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15834615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanMisha/pseuds/CeruleanMisha
Summary: When Owen doesn't answer his phone, Claire goes out to check on him, and finds him in distress. He has a long road to recovery ahead...(Updated Oct 19) Claire will try anything to get through to Owen...will the risk she takes pay off or will she and Owen pay the ultimate price?





	1. Answer The Phone!

She didn't worry the first time her call went unanswered. She'd been with him when his phone rang in his pocket and he didn't even bother to look at it. She'd been with him when his phone was across the room, or in another room, or even left behind in his can. She tried again a few hours later, and sighed when the voice mail answered. Three, four, five, times. 

Maybe the phone was on silent and he didn't even know it was ringing. Maybe he'd left it somewhere and had no idea she was trying to call him. There were any number of scenarios where someone like Owen Grady might not answer his damn phone, but Claire had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She obviously didn't know what was keeping him from answering, but she couldn't deny the gut instinct telling her to go check on him.

He was building himself a cabin, well outside of town, and it was honestly kind of daunting to go out there this time of night. The sun was going down, Natural light would be gone in less than an hour. She didn't even know if he would be out at the cabin. Maybe he was in town, holed up in a booth in one of the bars. That was always a possibility with Owen. But that didn't feel right. Not this time, not after the news reports.

Dr Malcolm was testifying in court, and he seemed to think they out to let nature takes its course. Maybe he was right. Maybe humans had interfered with the dinosaurs enough. But even so, was it right to leave them to die such a horrible death? The volcano was doing to decimate Isla Nublar. Nothing would survive. And Blue was on that island. 

She wasn't sure if she should pray that he was at the cabin, or that he wasn't. She wasn't sure what she'd do if he wasn't there. Would she head into town and look for him, or assume she'd done everything she could and head back home? Maybe she'd go into town and drink herself into a stupor the way she thought he might be doing. No, she wouldn't do that, but it was tempting to think about doing that.

She blasted Bohemian Rhapsody on the car stereo, and sang along with Freddie Mercury at the top of her lungs while she drove. It was silly and she knew it, but it kept her mind from thinking about what she might find when she found Owen. If she found Owen. 

His van and his bike were both parked in front of the frame of his cabin, but the landscape was still. As if no one had been around for days. She glanced up at the sky. The sun was gone, and only a few minutes of daylight remained. She felt like she was walking into a horror movie, and she seriously considered leaving right then and there, but the instinct that brought her here insisted that she that she at least peek in the van and see if he was there.

"Owen," She called out to him, even though she knew he wasn't going to answer. The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end as she approached the van. She had the thought to stop right now, get back in her car and call the police. If she expained her concerns, maybe they'd someone out to investigate. 

So why was she still walking forward, toward the van? Because there was no way she was getting police involved. Not unless there was reason to, and so far there wasn't. She didn't even know if he was here. He could have walked into town, or gotten a ride with someone...

"Owen?" she called again, tentative, cautious. Only stillness answered her. She drew a breath, smoothed a hand over the front of her shirt, and decided to march forward withi her head held high. She wasn't afraid of Owen, though he could be down right terrifying if he chose to be. But he had never hurt her, and she knew he wouldn't. But she had no idea if he had a girl in there with him, or a guy, or...

She was hit with a surge of dread. This was a mistake. So he hadn't answered his phone even though she'd called him multiple times. That was his right. He probably knew why she was calling, and he just didn't want to talk about it. Why would he want to talk about the dinosaur he'd raised from hatching until the day her sisters were murdered and she ran off into the wild? That was nearly three years ago. He probably didn't even think about the raptors much anymore.

Which was why the news about the volcano and the imminent reextinction of the dinosaurs would hit him hard. And that was what she was worried about. That was why she was here. because of the unanswered calls. Because of the fear that he was...what? She didn't even know. But that's what it was. Fear for him, and his mental state.

He had shown her weakness during those first weeks after the demise of Jurassic World, when the nightmares consumed him and sent his mind into dark, unstable places. She worried he had fallen into that terrible abyss in the wake of Dr Malcolm's testimony because he was, in a way, giving Blue a death sentence. Owen had seen the other three raptors die. Charlie had been blown up less than ten feet from him. Delta was thrown onto a hot grill. The Indomidus had thrown Echo down like a rag doll. Owen had been helpless, unable to save them. But Blue, Blue was still out there. 

Did he think he could save her? Surely he wouldn't be foolish enough to think..."Owen!" she hurried the last few feet to the van. It was nearly full dark now, and landscape around her was looking very spooky. "Owen!" she knocked on the side door of the van. She couldn't see much inside, only shadows that had no real shape or form. She couldn't tell if he was in there, and she was starting to seriously regret her decision to come out here. 

What was she thinking anyway? Owen was a private man. Sure, he'd let her in, he'd let her see his insecurities when they were living together in this very van. But that was a long time ago. She hadn't even seen him face to face since she'd left him. She'd only spoken to him on the phone three times in two years. "Owen, please. If you're in there, open up!"

She heard a rustling that seemed to come from the far side of the van. And then a low, trembling voice saying her name. "Claire, why..."

"Owen!" She rushed around to him, and reached out her hands as she knelt down in front of him. There was just enough ambient light from the sky that she could see him there, hunched over and curled up against the front wheel of the van. He recoiled from her touch and drew a sharp breath. She couldn't see if he was hurt, or what was wrong, but she knew he was in bad shape. It could just as easily be mental anguish as physical pain, she had no way to tell in the darkness.

She put her hands out again, this time anticipating the flinch. Her hands found his shoulders and she could feel him trembling. "Owen, I have to get you out of here. Can you stand? Walk?" She wasn't sure what she'd do if he couldn't get up on his feet. He was a big guy, well over six feet, and solid. There was no way she could lift him or move him if he couldn't or wouldn't help her. 

"You shouldn't be here." The words were stunted, like it physically hurt him to say them. 

Her hands found his face. He was warm. Too warm. "Owen, you're burning up!" She tugged on him, trying to get him on his feet. When that didn't work, she crouched down and slung his arm over her shoulder to try and get him up that way. He didn't resist, but didn't help her either and the end result was both of them tumbling face first to the ground. Claire went down with an undignified groan, but she was pushing herself up again, and trying desperately to see Owen in the dark.

"Owen, you've got to get up. Please. You're too big and I don't know what to do to help you." Tears stung at her eyes, but she wouldn't cry. She swallowed a breath, desperate to keep herself under control. "Fine. I'll call..." Who? She had no one to call for help. "I don't know. Someone."

"No. Just..." Owen sighed. She could hear a tremor in his voice. "Just give me a minute."


	2. Watch And Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire struggles to get Owen the help she knows he needs.

Owen insisted he could get up on his own. Claire wasn't so sure, but in the darkness she couldn't see his face, or the hard glare of determination in his eyes. He relied heavily on the solidness of the van behind him to hold his weight as he struggled to stand. Claire was right there, hands out stretched to try and help him, but she didn't know what to do and she felt a million miles away from him. 

She had so many questions, so many concerns. But the way he was grunting and his breath was labored, she didn't want to ask and make him try to talk. He needed to focus, she could see that even in the darkness that hung around them with an oppressive thickness that made her feel entirely helpless. If only she could see him, she could see what was going on with him, where he needed her to step in and help him. 

He was panting heavily by the time he was on his feet, his back pressed against the van. She could make out his outline, but little else. "Can you walk?" Of all the questions floating around in her head, that one was the most pressing at the moment. "You know what, no. You're going to stay where you are. I'm going to go get my car." His response was little more than an exasperated growl.

She hated to walk away from him, and just leave him there. But it had to be done. She already knew the answer to her question, and she wasn't entirely sure she could support him all the way to her vehicle. And she could finally see him in the light from her headlights. She just had to hope he wouldn't do anything stupid while she was away from him. 

She ran faster than anyone had a right to run in heels. Her heart felt like it was going to jump out of her throat, and she was almost wheezing by the time she slid into the driver's seat of her little white sedan. She fumbled with her keys, berating herself for wasting what might be precious time, before she was rolling toward the van, and toward Owen.

She saw him go down. He just sort of slumped, and slid down the side of the van into an undignified heap in the dirt. She whimpered at the sight, because it was utterly terrifying. And she knew, she had known when she went for the car that she never should have left him alone. But she had to, because the car was too far away. And now it was close. She left just enough space that she could open the back door, though how the hell she was going to get him into the car was a whole other matter.

"Owen!" She left the car running and her driver's door open as she ran around to him. "Owen! Talk to me. Say something, please!" He made no sound, but with the light from the car she could see that he was at least breathing. His pants were torn, and his shirt was missing one sleeve, but the material was tied around his right arm between the elbow and shoulder. The arm below that point was grotesquely swollen. 

She drew a deep breath. This was not the time for panic. Owen needed her. And she needed to keep her cool, and get him into the car and to the hospital. She shut down her emotions, and focused on the physical task at hand. Owen was completely unresponsive. He wasn't going to be able to help her. She knew she couldn't lift him, even if he was a limp noodle. She realized her only hope was to get into the car and haul him up that way. It wasn't easy, and she worried she was going to hurt him worse than he was already hurt, but she had no choice. She had to get him in the car whatever the cost. She couldn't help him if she couldn't get him the help he needed.

His head lolled to the side and she very nearly pulled him right into the doorframe. She managed to avoid slamming his head against the metal, and fumbled awkwardly to get him fully into the car. "Oh my god, your legs are so freaking long," she muttered because chastising him actually relieved some of her tension even if he couldn't hear her. He left his feet dangling and let his body fall still on the seat of her car. Now that she could really see what he looked like, she felt a new wave of fear. There was almost no color in his face, and his right hand was bloated like some kind of Pillsbury Dough Boy. She forced herself to move. She climbed out of the car, and went around to tuck his feet into the vehicle so that he cleared the door and she could shut it with him safely nestled on the seat. 

She repositioned her rearview mirror so she could see him while she drove. He remained slack, unconscious, unresponsive. As much as that worried her, she thought it was also probably a good thing because she would have had a hard time keeping her focus on driving if she'd started moving around. She sped when she could, and cursed the other drivers when she was forced to slwo down in traffic. All in all it took her just over half an hour to get to the hospital. She pulled right up to the ambulance bay and rushed inside, flying into a frantic plea for help directed at the first person she saw. From there, it was out of her hands. 

A mass of people descended on her car, and the man in her back seat. A nurse tried to take her to a waiting room, but someone yelled that she'd need to move her vehicle. She was shaking like a leaf when she moved the car, finding a parking spot near the ER entrance. She hurried back inside, her heart in her stomach as she was told to sit and wait and someone would be with her when they could. The waiting was agony. She sat, she paced, she tried to look at magazines, but couldn't focus at all. How could she do anything, when she had no idea what was happening to and with Owen?

What if he...no. She wouldn't allow herself to think that. Owen was strong. He was a fighter. He'd probably been through way worse than this, whatever it was. But what if she made it worse for him by making him get up? What it she caused more harm than good by yanking him up into her car? She could have called for help, and had a squad, and people who knew what they were doing, come out to his cabin. But she hadn't done that. For better or worse, she had made him get up, she had yanked and hauled him into her car. And now he was at the hospital and she had to believe he was going to get the help he needed.

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, a young man in a light blue scrub top and matching pants was shaking her shoulder. She sat up with a start, eyes wide for a moment. Confusion blanketed her senses for a few seconds, then cleared out suddenly as she remembered where she was and came up from her chair with a gasp. "Owen!" she yelped, eyes settling on the man in front of her, and she scrambled to grab hold of his arm. The ID clipped to the breast pocket of his top identified him as Marc Juarez, RN. "Where is he? Can I see him?"

"Mrs Grady," he started. She put a hand up to stop him right there, then let it fall. She'd only supplied her first name, but she'd filled out paperwork for Owen, insofar as she could. She didn't know much more than his name and current address, but she'd told them what she could. Maybe it was better if they thought she was Owen's wife. They'd probably give her more information. Hell, if she knew anything about hospitals it was that they wouldn't tell her much of anything if they knew she wasn't his wife. So she made the decision in the spur of the moment not to correct him. 

"Come with me," Nurse Juarez continued, undeterred by her false attempt to interrupt him. "You can see him, but he's unconscious. And no, we don't know how long he'll be out. All we can do at this point is wait and watch and hope for the best." 

Claire hadn't brought anything in with her but the clothes she was wearing. She didn't hesitate to follow him through the doors marked Restricted Access. "What happened to him? Is he going to be all right?"

The nurse kept walking, leading the way down a corridor and a turn to the left, and another turn after that. Claire idly wondered why hospitals always seemed to be a maze, and she wondered if she'd ever find her way back out. She'd run through the jungle with a killer Indomidus Rex on her heels, and never once thought about how she was going to get out of there the way she was thinking about how the hell to get back to the hospital exit. 

Nurse Juarez's voice pulled her from that thoughts. "...By a snake," he was saying. He stopped walking, and put his hand out to a closed door. The name written on the placard to one side read Grady, Owen. Claire felt her heart skip a beat. This was real. I was real, and Owen was in real trouble. "He was smart to tourniquet his arm, but it appears some of the poison got into his bloodstream before he cut off the circulation." 

"Please," Claire murmured. She had a million questions, but seeing Owen was the most important thing. "I need to see him." Nurse Juarez nodded and opened the door. Claire all but pushed him out of the way to get inside that room. If her heart skipped a beat when she saw his name on the door, seeing him lying prone in the bed caused her heart to flip and thrum in her chest. She was pretty sure the inhuman sound she heard came from her throat, but she didn't care. She lurched to the bedside, and fumbled for his hand, taking it in her own.

"As I was trying to explain, Mr Grady is in critical condition. He's lucky you got him here when you did. You may have saved his life."

Looking at him, it was hard to believe he was alive. He looked so frail, hardly the wrecking ball of a man she knew. His six foot two inch frame was almost too big for the bed, and yet completely dwarfed by the machines and monitors he was connected to. The worst of it was the mask over his face. He was connected to a heart monitor and an IV dropped at least three different fluids into his good arm, and the hand she held. His other arm was strapped to a board and laying at his side. 

Claire drew a breath and looked at the nurse. "You never said if he's going to be all right." Her voice was small and low. She almost didn't recognise it. 

"I told you all we can do right now is watch and wait. And keep him comfortable." Juarez gave her a small smile. He knew how hard it was to hear news like this. "I will personally monitor him while I'm here. But I'm sorry, Mrs Grady. I can't tell you what you want to hear because the simple fact is, we don't know if he's going to be all right."


	3. Holding Tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen wakes up in hospital, but that doesn't mean he's in the clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no medical training. Please forgive any glaring medical related mistakes. I'm attempting to figure stuff out with help from the web, and I'll try to be vague for the most part, but...yeah.

Claire managed to maintain that she was Owen's wife in order to talk to the doctors and nurses who cared for him. It wasn't terribly difficult, and Owen couldn't contradict her claim while he was unconscious. She had no idea what he'd say when he woke up, but she couldn't worry about that until it happened. For now she was taking it all in, taking notes, and questioning everything. 

Whatever happened she wanted to have as much information under her belt as she could. If knowledge was power, information was the ultimate weapon. She knew the biggest fight was coming as soon as he woke up. Owen was stubborn, and she fully expected him to wake up fighting. 

She certainly didn't expect to look up and find him staring back at her. His eyes were dull, the green seeming almost brown. There was no spark, no light at all. He looked hollow, she realised, and her heart skipped a beat even as she moved to stand at the side of the bed. She took his hand in hers, and the only recognition from him was a blink. He couldn't speak because of the tube down his throat. His palm was clammy, but no longer super heated from fever. They'd managed to get his temperature down the first day after he'd been admitted.

"Owen," she spoke his name softly, eyes searching his face for any kind of reaction. A million and one thoughts crowded her head, careening off the walls of her mind, and twisting and turning in on each other, wild and terrified. What if he didn't even know who she was? Did he even know who _he_ was? Did he know where he was, or what had happened to him? What if he didn't remember anything?

His eyes closed. Claire touched his shoulder with her other hand. "I'm going to get the doctor." She turned her body, intending to go to the door. His hand tightened around hers, his grip weak but focused. She turned back to him, eyes traveling over his face. He looked gaunt, colorless, but that was to be expected. There was something more in his eyes, though, and she recognised it as fear, and that scared her.

She drew a deep breath and gave his hand a firm squeeze. "It's all right, Owen. You're safe here." His eyes fluttered and he shifted his gaze to look away. He must be so confused. And that confusion was causing anxiety. She didn't know how to put him at ease, but she lifted her other hand to comb her fingers through his hair. He sighed, and she took that as an indication that she was giving him at least some measure of comfort.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there holding his hand in hers and steadily running her fingers through his hair, but she didn't move but to set her hip against the bed until she heard the door open and someone come in. Nurse Juarez went around tot he far side of the bed and checked the monitors and the IV bag. "I'm happy to see you're awake, Mr Grady." He looked over at Claire with a look that could only be described as scolding. 

"You should have let me know he was awake." Juarez pulled the light out of his pocket, and leaned over Owen to check his eyes. His pupils reacted, and appropriately as far as Claire could tell. She was no doctor, but she wasn't unfamiliar with basic first aid and such.

"I know. But..." She sighed. There was no justifying her choice, but she also wasn't going to feel guilty about it. "He grabbed my hand and I couldn't leave him." 

Juarez nodded, and gestired to a remote control hard wired to the headboard of Owen's bed. "There is a call button. Shockingly, if you press it, you can talk to someone at the nurse's station which is right outside the door." He shifted his focus to the patient and continued his exam. He didn't ask Claire to move, though he did force her to give up holding Owen's hand so he could test this reflexes and his grip. The moment he finished and let go, Claire was right there, taking hold of Owen's hand once more. Juarez explained the process of taking the tube out of Owen's nose, instructing him to cough as he pulled it out. Claire through it was never going to end, but he finally pulled it free and set it aside. 

"Mr Grady. Do you know where you are?" Owen's eyes closed. He drew a breath, shallow and shaky. Claire gave his hand a firm squeeze to make sure he knew he wasn't alone. She was right there with him. "Mr Grady. Do you know where you are?" Juarez repeated. Owen opened his eyes and gave a slight nod. His eyes scanned the room, at least what he could see without lifting his head, indicating he knew he was in hospital. "Do you know why you are here?" Another nod, and he closed his eyes, keeping them shut. "All right. I'll let you rest for a while."

Juarez looked up at Caire. "I'm going to speak with the doctor, and he'll probably come by this evening. Try to keep your husband calm and quiet in the meantime. I'll bring some ice chips, but don't over do it." 

Claire nodded. "Thank you." She pulled her attention from the nurse as he left the room and looked at Owen. He had a firm, if not terribly tight, grip on her hand. She stretched to pull the nearby chair over, catching the leg with her foot and dragging it across the floor so she could sit next to him without letting go. She had a feeling her hand in his comforted him as much as it comforted her. 

A short while later, Claire woke to a death grip crushing her fingers. She sat up, her body protesting the fact she'd fallen asleep in a chair, bent forward with her head on her arm. Her sleep addled brain thought her hand must be going to sleep and she attempted to shake it out, but found it anchored to whatever gripped it. She tried to pull away, but the grip tightened. It took several seconds for the cobwebs to clear, and awareness hit her like a ton of bricks right to the chest. 

"Mrs Grady," Dr Greene greeted her with a nod as she stretched. "His reflexes are right where we'd hoped they'd be, and he's indicated he's in a lot of pain. I'm giving him morphine, and I'll get him something to help him sleep tonight. We'll reassess in the morning and see about getting him up on his feet. The sooner we get him moving, the better," he said.

Claire nodded. She was eager to get Owen on his feet. The sooner he was up and moving, the faster he would recover, whatever that meant. There had been a lot of uncertainty, but he was awake now. That had to be a good thing. "What is his prognosis? I assume you have a better idea now that he's awake?"

She tried not to think about how disconcerting it was that he hadn't said a word. She hadn't heard him make a sound. Surely that was normal, given all that he'd been through. The tube down his nose and throat probably hadn't helped. She remembered it had been difficult to speak after she'd had a nasal tube during a routine surgery years earlier.

"There are still a lot of unknown factors," Dr Greene started. He frowned his eyes grazing over Owen. He'd seen something, Claire realised. She hadn't seen it, but she followed the doctor's gaze up to Owen's face. His mouth was slack, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Claire's eyes shot to the doctor's face, but whatever she meant to say seemed to get hung up in her throat, and only a small, helpless sound came out. A split second later, Owen's hand gripped hers so tight and unyielding that she thought her fingers would surely break. The doctor pulled the blanket down, away from Owen's body, and the entire bed shook with the force of his seizure. 

Claire's breath caught in her throat. She was frozen where she was, unable to move even if she wanted to because of the grip Owen had on her hand. It could have been thirty seconds, a minute, five minutes, or an hour. There was no way to measure time like that, when Claire's fear spiked and she could only stand there helpless and unable to do anything to help Owen. When he fell still and his hand went slack, she pulled her hand to cradle it to her chest. 

The doctor carefully turned Owen onto his side, taking care to keep his injured arm clear. "When he's settled I want to look at that hand."


	4. I'm Right Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire has a heart to heart with Owen.

He was sitting up in the chair when she came back from getting something to eat. She smiled and set her purse down between the bedside table and the wall, out of the way. "It's nice to see you up and out of bed," she said. She sat on the end of the bed, facing him. 

He acknowledged her with a nod, then shifted his gaze and looked out the window. The view was nice enough. There was another wing of the hospital across the way, and a small courtyard down below. It was well maintained, with a few trees and a picnic table, a small garden and a pair of benches on either side of a walkway. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked him. She looked intently at him. His right hand, still heavily bandaged, lay in his lap. His left arm rested on the chair's armrest. He hadn't entirely regained his color, but then being in hospital tended to wash a person out. She wasn't terribly worried about that, but it was at the same time a bit disconcerting. Owen was usually such a strong presence, she'd thought that the first time she ever met him. He was someone you want on your side, not opposing you.

That was why she'd gone to him when she'd realised her nephews weren't safe and the Indomidus Rex was terrorising the park. She'd known he was someone who could, and would, help her find and rescue them. If anyone could find those boys and keep them safe, it was him. It hadn't worked out the way she'd planned, but she still believed she and both those boys probably would have died if Owen hadn't been there.

She sighed and reached a hand out to his knee. She wouldn't say he flinched, but he reacted, and his dull, pale eyes glanced at her hand, warm and pink against the drab off blue color of the standard hospital gown he wore. He blinked and turned his gaze back to the window. 

"Owen." She said his name with a lilt of concern. His eyes closed, but he didn't look at her. "Dr Greene said there isn't any physical reason you aren't talking. I really wish you'd say something. Talk to me, Owen. Tell me what's going through your head." Dr Greene had ordered a psychological evaluation, but the department was backed up and no one had been around to see Owen yet. 

Claire hated seeing him this way. He was barely a shell of the man she knew. Where was the fearless velociraptor trainer who rode his motorcycle through the jungle with his four raptors keeping pace around him? There was no sign of him in Owen's posture, or in his eyes. 

Where was the fierce determination she associated with him? When she'd found him on the ground beside his van just three nights earlier, he'd insisted he could get up on his own. He'd been laser-focused, proud. Now there was nothing. No determination, no focus, no spark. It was like he'd given up.

He wouldn't even talk. His communication was limited to glassy-eyed blinks and nods and a stiff jaw when he looked away. That scared Claire most of all. The doctor could treat his injuries and the seizures, therapy could help him regain strength in his hand, but what could the doctor do about his lack of speech, since he'd determined there was no physical cause?

"Okay. No, it's fine," Claire said, and she straightened her posture to try and present a brave front. She didn't want him to know how terrified she was, how worried she was about him. He was supposed to be strong, before this she would have said he was the strongest person she knew. She would have said he could handle anything in stride, and with grace and pride. She never would have imagined he would be the one to give up as soon as things got hard. 

"You don't have to say anything. I know you're miserable. I know you're in pain. I know you're scared because you don't know if you're ever going to be normal again, or whatever. You got bit by a snake. I can't even begin to imagine what that must feel like. But Owen. You're alive. It didn't kill you. You're alive and I don't understand why you're not fighting to get better." 

Owen leaned his head back against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. He didn't have to tell her to shut up or go to hell or leave him the fuck alone for her to know that was exactly what he was thinking. She wanted him to say it, though. She would have sold her soul to the devil right then and there if it meant he would talk to her. If it meant he would say anything, even if it was to tell her to shut the fuck up. 

"I always admired you, you know? From the moment I met you. Okay, maybe not so much when we went on that first date. Our only date. That was..." She shook her head. And watched his face, looking for any shift of his expression, any hint that he was hearing her and reacting to what she was saying. God, she missed his snarky replies, his obnoxious quips and sometimes suggestive one-liners. She hated the silence.

"That was a mistake. But then when the Indomidus got out of her enclosure and we worked together to find Zack and Gray..." She thought sure that would get a response, but he sat silent and still. He looked like a mannequin sitting in that chair. The only clue that he was a living breathing person was the rise and fall of his chest. 

She wanted to smack him. Maybe if she slapped him across the face, he'd sit up and take notice. He'd know she was serious. And she was worried about him. And this not talking thing wasn't acceptable at all. "Do you remember what you told me after it was over? I said, what do we do now? And you said, we stick together. For survival." 

Still nothing. Not even a flutter of his eyes or a twitch of his mouth. Her eyes darted to his chest to make sure he was actually breathing, though she was pretty sure the monitors he was hooked up to would go crazy if he wasn't. "I'm sorry I left you, Owen. I just..." She shook her head, and moved to the edge of the bed so she could take his uninjured hand in hers. 

He had always been so warm, but now he just felt clammy and cold. "It wasn't you. I wanted to be with you. But I didn't want to live in a van. I know you were going to build the cabin, and so far it looks really great. I'm sure it will be amazing when you get it finished. Because you will finish it, Owen. You're going to finish it and I'll live in it with you. If you'll let me." 

She thought sure that would get a response from him. She sighed heavily, and gave his hand a squeeze. She wanted to scream at him and beat her fists on his chest. She'd do whatever she had to do to get him to acknowledge her. But she just held his hand, and hoped that she was affecting him even if he wasn't letting it show. He was nothing, if not stubborn. She knew that. But this was more than that. 

She let go of his hand and shifted back on the bed, because she'd been hunched over to hold his hand and it hurt her back. She straightened and sighed and reached up to run a hand through her hair. Her gaze looked to his face, and she realised a single tear had slipped out of his eye and rolled down his cheek. 

"Oh, Owen." She felt her heart drop to her stomach, and her hands reached for his hand and held it tight. She didn't care how uncomfortable she was, she wasn't going to let go of him again. "I'm here. I'm right here," she murmured. "You don't have to say anything. Not if you don't want to. But I'm here. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." His hand squeezed hers softly but firm.


	5. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen has his first session with a therapist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I had company for a few days, kinda put my writing behind schedule.

Owen slept more than not. Claire didn't argue with him on that. He needed sleep, even if he was sitting up in the chair. Sleep was when healing occurred, and his stats were getting stronger. His heart rate was back up where it should be, he was filtering oxygen more effectively. His blood pressure hovered on the low end of normal. 

A knock against the door had Claire sitting up. Owen didn't react. Claire straightened and ran a hand through her hair as a young woman ina modest pantsuit came in. "Mr Grady. Mrs Grady." The hospital still believed Claire was his wife and since he wasn't talking he wasn't going to contradict and Claire wasn't going to set the record straight. Being his wife gave her unrestricted access to his treatment and recovery, and she wasn't going to give that up. 

"My name is Georgina Mears. You can call me Gina. I'm here to get you on your feet, Mr Grady."

"He prefers Owen," Claire said. Owen wasn't likely to speak up on his own behalf, so Claire felt compelled to do it for him. At the same time, she released Owen's hand so she could get out of the therapist's way.

"All right, Mr Grady." Claire rolled her eyes. She could almost hear Owen correct her, saying his own name in that annoyed way he used with her. But of course he said nothing. Claire stood off to the side, watching as the woman set the bag she carried down on the tray table and fished in it, pulling out a thick belt. "I'm going to put this around your waist so I have something to hold to help keep you steady. Hopefully we won't actually need it." 

She worked it around Owen, carefully avoiding his bandaged arm as she fastened the belt around him. "Now I need you to scoot to the edge of the seat and we're going to use your legs to get up on your feet." Claire was acutely aware of Owen's effort to comply. It appeared to be difficult for him, almost like he'd forgotten how to make his body do what he wanted it to do. Claire felt frustrated on his behalf, but she didn't let it show. She just watched, taking mental notes about how the therapist worked with him, in case she needed to help him later, when no one else was around. 

"That's it. All right. Don't get frustrated. You're doing fine. If it helps with motivation, you have to be able to walk up and down the hallway on your own before the doctor will even think about releasing you to go home. Of course the first phase is being able to get up and down on your own too. But we'll worry about that later. Brace yourself on my shoulder and take all the time you need." She was on his left side, since he couldn't exactly bear weight on his right arm.

"You're right handed, aren't you?" Which made things slightly trickier since his dominant hand was the one he couldn't use. But they could work around that. "It's all right. I'm not going to let you fall. This is my job, remember? I know what I'm doing." She took a firm hold of the belt around his waist but otherwise stood still, forcing Owen to do the work. 

Two false starts left him red faced and panting. On his third attempt to get to his feet, Gina slid her arm around his waist to give him a little extra help. "You'll do better tomorrow," she told him. "It's difficult after laying in bed for several days. Now let's walk." Claire felt her heart break for him, for the shuffling steps that seemed near impossible for him. 

"Look up, look ahead. Not down at your feet. I've got you, but the goal is to walk normally. I assume you don't normally stare at your feet when you walk? No? Good. then you're not going to do that now, either." She made him walk up to the end of the hall and back. His room was a little less than halfway down. It was a walk that under normal circumstances, he could walk without batting an eye, but by the time he returned to the room and Gina helped him into bed, he was sweating and almost seemed to be struggling to breathe.

"You did great, Owen. And tomorrow you'll do better." Gina unfastened the belt and pulled it out from around him. She folded it over and put it back in her bag. "I'll be back around 10am, and again around 4pm," she told him. Or maybe she was telling Claire. "We're going to work on mobility, and your hand, so you need to rest up tonight. You have a very busy day ahead of you tomorrow." 

Gina slung her bag onto her shoulder. "Do either of you have any questions?" 

If Owen had anything to say or ask, he didn't speak up. Claire sighed. Owen's silence was almost deafening to her. The Owen she knew was never silent. It was up to Claire, then, to speak for both of them. "Is there anything I could or should be doing to help him regain his strength?"

"After I assess his hand tomorrow, I'll leave you with some exercises you can do with him. For tonight, if you want to massage his legs, I'm sure he would appreciate that. He's pretty stiff, which is completely understandable." 

Claire nodded. "All right. I can do that. Thank you." 

"You're welcome. Here's my card," she offered a business card, which Claire put in her pocket. "Don't hesitate to call if you have questions ot need anything that I can help with." 

"I will, thank you again." Claire offered her a smile then turned her focus back to Owen as Gina left. "I bet it felt good to get up and walk." Owen sighed and looked at the pitcher of water by the bed. Claire followed his gaze, and moved to pour him a bit of it. He drank it slowly, taking small sips until it was gone. Claire set the Styrofoam cup aside. 

She leaned in, impulsively kissing his lips. His good hand moved up to the back of her head, holding her to him for a long moment before he pulled back. He let his hand fall down to her back, and he pressed his forehead against hers. She shifted her body, and moved to climb onto the bed next to him. He didn't object, so she settled in.


	6. A Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire decides to eat lunch outside. Will Owen join her?

Between therapies focusing on general mobility, therapies focused on his hand, and therapies focused on his speech and communication, the next few weeks passed quickly. Owen's health and strength steadily improved and he was moved from the hospital to a rehab center across campus.

"It's a beautiful day outside," Claire said, opening the blinds. His window faced a courtyard with a small flower garden, a walking path, trees, and benches as well as a pair of picnic tables. It was a quiet, serene place, protected from the noise of traffic. "We should take lunch out there. What do you think?"

Owen raised a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. He powered through his therapy sessions like nothing could stop him or hold him back, but when he wasn't in therapy, he didn't seem to care about much at all. He communicated with looks and vague body language, reminding Claire more of a petulant teenager than a grown man with Navy Seals training and years of experience training velociraptors under his belt. Claire didn't know much about his life before he'd accepted the job with InGen, but she knew it wasn't passive. _He_ wasn't passive. 

It was hard to tell now, though, and some part of her wondered what he'd do if she walked out the door and never came back. Would he even care? Would he wonder where she went? Would he look up every time the door opened hoping she was coming back to him? She hated that she thought it at all, but it weighed heavy on her. He didn't seem to care about anything, why should she be the one thing he did care about? He sure as hell didn't show her, or give any real indication that he cared one way or the other.

But she did. And she hated that she was even thinking about how he'd react if she left, questioning if he'd react at all. She hated herself for thinking about it, for considering it. She didn't think she'd actually go through with it, she had too much invested in him and his recovery at this point. But she had put her life on hold to be with him, to stand by him, and for what?

For him to lift a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug when she asked him a question. It didn't seem like a very fair pay out. Not that she was looking for a pay out. But she would have appreciated more than a half shrug and a wayward glance out the window. She wasn't asking for much. She wasn't even asking him to use his voice, she just wanted him to show some emotion, some passion for something. Anything. If not the possibility of lunch outside, then something else.

She sighed and deliberately swallowed down her discontent. It wouldn't do any good to bring it up with him, or to try to have a conversation. He had gotten pretty adept at communicating his wants and needs through looks and gestures, and she felt she read him pretty well, but that kind of communication was limited without both of them knowing sign language with fluency. She refused to put out all the effort, and he wasn't giving her much to work with. 

"All right. Executive decision. We're eating outside. Get up." Claire rose to her feet and gestured for him to do the same. He stared at her for a moment, unmoving, and she plowed on. "You're carrying your own plate and stuff out there. Or you're eating in here. By yourself. Your choice. Me? I'm going outside."

She picked up her plate and moved toward the door and walked out without looking back. Either he'd follow or he wouldn't. She wasn't going to try to influence him either way. She went outside, and sat down at one of the tables with her back to the door so she would look at it hopefully or expectantly. 

She wasn't at all interested in eating the sandwich on her plate. She didn't have much of an appetite at all. How could she, when Owen and Owen's recovery and the road blocks Owen put in his own path to recovery consumed her thoughts? How could she care about food now, when all she cared about was Owen, and Owen didn't seem to care at all for himself? Food was absolutely the last thing on her mind, but she picked at the sandwich anyway, taking small bites. She felt like she'd eaten half of it at least, but when she looked down, she'd barely nibbled any of it at all. 

She sighed and forced herself to take a normal bite. Damn him for making her feel this way. She wanted to walk out and leave him to rot if that was what he wanted. But at the same time, she wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he came to his senses. How dare he make her feel so conflicted on his behalf, and then not care one way or the other himself. 

The door behind her opened. She resisted looking to see if it was him. It could be someone else, and she knew it likely was. She didn't expect him to come out and join her. He was entirely too stubborn for that. She still sighed when two people walked past her on the cement walkway, headed to the door leading to the wing on the other side of the courtyard. 

She watched them until they disappeared inside, and she wondered what their story was. It was easy to see which one was the patient, the elderly woman walking with a slow, shuffling pace. Who was the younger woman with her? A daughter, perhaps a daughter in law. Maybe even a granddaughter. It was hard to say. People had such wildly extended families these days, there was no way to really know. 

Her musings distracted her so that she didn't hear the door behind her open a second time. She didn't realise he was there until he sat down. He'd carried his drink, a bottle of water, in the crook of his arm. There was a spot on his shirt that seemed to indicate he'd tipped the plate too far, likely when he was trying to open the door, and his sandwich had pressed against his clothes. She didn't care. The point was he had done it, and he was outside with her, and that made her feel a swell of happiness and pride and a feeling she could only describe as elated.

Maybe he did care, after all. Maybe she had been too harsh on him in her thoughts. Maybe he was fighting after all. And maybe, just maybe this was a huge breakthrough. She hoped so. She needed some good news, and this felt like something tangible to hold on to. 

"The sun feels good. A little warm, but not too hot. And there's a slight breeze, so it's really kind of perfect out here right now." She kept her tone steady, trying not to show emotion, and leaving it open for him to respond.

He only nodded in reply. She accepted it at face value without trying to read into it. He was outside, he'd come out on his own after she'd walked out on him. She couldn't help but see it as progress and a step in the right direction. She noticed his hand was shaking, but she didn't comment. She just reached across the table to clasp his hand, to give his fingers a firm and supportive squeeze, meant to tell him she was proud of him. She didn't want to belittle him by saying it out loud. 

After a minute, he tugged his hand away and picked up his sandwich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a great deal with this chapter, trashing several different attempts to write it. I finally decided to jump ahead a bit, and it flowed a bit better. I hope you guys like it! Please let me know in comments if you have a moment to do so :)


	7. His Best Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire will try anything to reach Owen though the wall of pain and frustration he's been hiding behind.

"I know it's a bad idea," Claire said. She paced a few steps, back and forth in front of Dr Greene's desk. "But I think it's necessary." She stopped walking and stood directly in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, gaze firm. If looks could kill, she'd at least be boring holes into the man's flesh. "For his recovery."

"I don't like it," Dr Greene countered. "There are too many variables, too many uncontrolled factors." What a weak, unconvincing argument, Claire thought. He gave no specifics, though he didn't really need to get technical. She knew the risks. 

Claire's eyes narrowed. "And," she started, her tone communicating her annoyance. "I respect that. i do. But." She knew the doctor meant well. He was looking out for his patient. But he didn't know Owen the way Claire did. Admittedly, she didn't know him all that well, either. He wasn't the sort of man who talked about his past, where he came from, what he experienced in his life. She knew him through experience, through their adventures the day the Indomidus terrorised the park, and their short-lived relationship afterward. 

She firmly believed that what she was suggesting would help him. He'd hit something of a plateau with his recovery. He wasn't getting any better, and while he wasn't getting any worse, he was stagnant. And frustrated, at times uncooperative. He wasn't eating enough, wasn't self motivating at all. He was withering right before her eyes, and it damaged her soul to see him like that.

"Owen and I are both intimately familiar with the island, and its inhabitants. And I think..." 

Dr Greene shook his head. "From what I understand, Owen suffered a great deal of loss on that island, and to go back there now doesn't seem like a good idea."

Claire drew a calming, steadying breath. She was nothing if not cool, calm, and collected. That was how she'd built her reputation on Isla Nublar, that was how she wanted to present now. For Owen's sake. "With all due respect, Doctor," she said, her voice hard and clipped. She was in all-business mode now. "You weren't there. I was. I know exactly what he lost that day." She'd seen his face on the monitor around Charlie's head the moment he'd realised she was going to die. Of course the camera shorted out when it was blown to bits along with Charlie, but still. She'd seen the horror and the pain in his eyes for a split second. 

And she'd been with him when Blue had turned and trotted away. Maybe taking him back to the island was a bad idea. Blue wasn't the only dinosaur over there, and most of them were carnivores. She imagined the herbivores hadn't lasted too long, once there were no fences to keep them safe, or staff to feed the meat eaters. But it was something she could do, something proactive, something that had at least half a chance to reach past the pain and the brokenness that seemed to have Owen wrapped up in its grip. 

"Traditional medicine isn't working. It's time to try something a little more personal for him." 

"And if I still say no?"

Claire put her hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Owen isn't a child. He can leave the hospital, and your rehab program anytime he wants to leave," she said. "But I'm really hoping to have your support on this. Because I honeslty believe it's the best chance we have at getting back the man I know." _And love_ she thought, but she wasn't going to say that part out loud. She was still struggling with the weight of it.

"I think it's suicide," Dr Greene stood, and Claire straightened her back to stand upright as well. "And I really wish you'd reconsider." 

"I really feel it's his best chance," she said, her tone softer now, but no less firm. Her conviction was strong. Taking Owen to Isla Nublar was quite possibly a suicide mission. But _not_ taking Owen to Isla Nublar amounted to much the same thing, only slower and more painful. He was rotting away, dying a little more each day. It would be sink or swim on the island, and Claire had to believe he would choose to swim. 

She had no idea how she'd reunite him with Blue. She wasn't foolish enough to think the raptor would meet them on arrival. Finding her would be difficult, quite possibly impossible. She was no stranger to impossible odds. Surviving the day the Indomidus attacked had been virtually impossible, and yet she and Owen, Zach and Gray, and even Blue had survived. Impossible didn't deter her. Impossible challenged her. And she needed a challenge just as much as Owen did. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Three Weeks Later *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Claire had put together a small group of necessary people to go to Isla Nublar with her and Owen. A paleo veterinarian named Zia that Claire worked with in the Dinosaur Protection Group, under the guise that Blue might need medical attention but as much because she wanted to have someone with medical training there just in case. And two retired service men who carried both lethal and nonlethal guns for protection. 

She glanced at Owen as the chartered plane dropped low to prepare for landing. He had been bitten nearly three months earlier. He hadn't spoken a word since the night Claire found him sitting in the dirt against his van, half out of his mind with pain and the effects of the venom in his blood. Despite the months of therapy, he hadn't regained the use of his hand, and his right arm was pinned to his body in a sling. His eyes were hollow, he was little more than a shell of the man she'd first met years earlier. 

Dread hit her as the plane took another drop. What if she'd made a huge mistake? It wasn't just herself and Owen. She was putting the pilot, Zia, and the other two men at risk. And it was literally life and death. Of course, they knew what they were agreeing to, when they boarded the plane. Claire had been up front and honest with them. She couldn't say the odds exactly, but there was a good chance no one would make it back from this. 

But there was a chance that they would. She'd believed in that chance for weeks, but now that they were moments away from landing and embarking on the journey of uncertainty, she was feeling a little less than confident. She glanced at Owen, but he wasn't going to provide her any support or encouragement. She knew if he had his way, he'd be sitting in his chair at the rehab center, seemingly unconcerned with the world passing him by. 

But she wanted more than that for him. He was never meant to be a passive bystander. He was a soldier of life, a trained warrior, someone who wasn't afraid to live. He'd lost his will, though, and she was determined to give it back to him, even if it killed them both and four other people too. 

The landing was rough, the plane lurched a bit and rocked as the wheels touched down. The ground was far from smooth, and there were a lot of bumps along the way before they came to a stop. Claire reached over to grasp Owen's left hand, to give it a squeeze as much to ground herself in his presence as to give him a little nudge of support. 

"You ready for this?" she asked him, looking up to his eyes. He blinked and sighed softly. She unfastened his seatbelt with her free hand, then gave his hand a slight tug forward to try and get him to move. He didn't resist, allowing Claire to lead the way to disembark the plane.

The air outside felt and smelled different, unaffected by people for more than a year. Claire took a moment to stand and take it all in. She had a sense of stepping back in time, of being in a place people weren't supposed to be. This land was sacred now, returned to nature, and she felt like an intruder even though she had once called this area home. 

She still had a grip on Owen's hand, and unless he pulled away, she wasn't going to let go anytime soon. For the moment, at least, he wasn't showing any signs of pulling away.


	8. Stand Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire, Owen, and their small party of humans have landed on Isla Nublar. Will they find Blue? How will Blue react if they do find her?

The first hours on the island had been dedicated to assessment and setting up a base camp. Plumes of smoke billowing out of the volcano were the only signs it was active from the ground. If Claire hadn't seen the news blurbs about it she wouldn't have thought anything of it, and she prayed it would be a non issue for them while they were on the island.

She couldn't get caught up in worrying about the volcano. Owen was her priority, finding Blue was her focus, and the authorities predicted several weeks before the volcano exploded. She led the way, still gripping Owen's good hand, to the former dino park's command center. If she could get the tracking system up and running, and assuming Blue's tracking device was still transmitting, she would be able to pinpoint the raptor's location.

Owen kept his head down, eyes on the ground. Zia walked behind them, looking up and around. Claire knew that despite her studies and despite her work to help save the dinosaurs she had never seen one up close and in person. Hopefully she would get to see a few, and take wild stories home to share with her friends and family. 

The snapping of a branch nearby caused everyone to still. Owen lifted his head, and Claire looked to where the sound had come from. The ground under their feel vibrated with the heavy, lumbering step of a giant dinosaur. Zia, the pilot, and the two rangers gasped almost in perfect unison as a long neck came into view. Quite honestly, Claire was surprised any of the herbivores had survived. She would have thought the carnivores would have killed them all by now since there was a limited number that survived the initial attack and the island wasn't all that big. 

As much as she didn't want to waste time standing around gawking at the dinosaur, she remained quiet and let those who hadn't seen a dino before enjoy the spectacle. After she shifted her weight in silent annoyance, she felt Owen's hand squeeze hers. It was subtle, and she very well could have imagined it, but she didn't think she had. She was pretty sure he was telling her to be patient. Seeing a dinosaur wasn't exciting to her because she'd managed a park full of them. To everyone else, it was new and fascinating. 

Ten minutes later, they were on the move again. Half an hour later they were making their way up the ruined walkway to the command center. She felt a shift in Owen's posture before he stopped moving. he wrenched his hand out from her grasp and held it up to signal the people behind them to stop. 

Claire cocked her head, listening, trying to determine what made Owen stop. She detected nothing but the rumble of the volcano in the distance, but she trusted Owen's instincts. Even in his half broken state, she trusted his instincts more than she'd trust her own. She swallowed hard, and shifted her gaze to look at him.

His jaw was set, and the vein in his neck throbbed. His eyes were open and focused. She followed the line of his gaze. She saw the raptor at about the same moment Zia did because the paleovet was suddenly pressed up against Claire's back, gripping her shirt. 

Owen stepped away, his one good hand held out toward Blue. No one else seemed to be breathing. Blue was a good fifty yards or so away from them, but she could close that gap before any of the humans could blink. And out in the open like they were, they had virtually nowhere to go. 

Claire had seen Owen and Blue interact, she had seen how the raptor responded to him. That was a year ago. That was when Blue was motivated to survive, though if Claire honestly believed the raptor had been trying to protect Owen when all hell broke loose. If she were honest, she'd say Blue's sisters had sacrificed themselves for Owen's sake. 

The five humans stood close together, nearly but not quite in a huddle as Owen approached Blue. Claire watched, her attention split between the human and the animal. Blue hadn't moved, except her head, in order to make a clicking noise as Owen approached. Claire felt her heart skip a beat as Owen moved within just a few feet of the raptor and she snapped her jaws at him. 

Blue's head tilted as her former trainer advanced toward her. Did Owen click his tongue, or was that her imagination? Claire imagined anything could happen in the next few moments, and very few of those possibilities were good ones. Blue could attack, and who could blame her? She likely associated Owen with her time in captivity. He was weak, easy prey with only one mobile arm.

She suddenly wished she hadn't done this. She was in way over her head. The island wasn't human friendly in the least. Blue wasn't the only predator to stalk the land. Owen was in no condition to fight. They had guns, but limited bullets. This was surely a suicide mission and they were all going to die, and it was her fault. 

"You know me," he said, the first words Claire had heard him say since she'd found him and rushed him to hospital. His voice was hoarse and shaky, the words lacked volume but not conviction. The raptor moved forward, her feet on solid ground where Claire could see that one toe tapping the dirt. This was it. She'd doomed Owen and everyone else to a horrible death.

She almost couldn't watch, but at the same time she couldn't tear her gaze away from Owen and Blue. If she had, she wouldn't have seen the raptor, a year after she'd been freed, nudge her head under Owen's outstretched hand. Claire could hear the murmur of Owen's voice, but she couldn't hear the words he was saying. She didn't need to, and it felt like an invasion of his and Blue's privacy just to be watching them in their moment of reunion.

"I'll be damned," one of the rangers whispered. Claire cringed. 

Blue's head snapped up and away from Owen at the sound. The raptor moved around Owen, toward the group of unfamiliar humans. "Blue," Owen said, voice rough like junkyard gravel. "Stand down." Blue moved within just a few inches of the group. Claire had seen her up close the night the park fell, but it had been brief and she hadn't been this close. At this range, she could see the intelligence in Blue's eyes, and she knew instinctively that Blue was not going to hurt her.

She slowly raised and held out her hand, the one that had gripped Owen's hand for most of the journey to the island. Blue tilted her head, the light of curiosity evident in her face. No one else moved or even dared breathe as Claire slowly stepped forward and closed the space between herself and the raptor. 

She was very aware no one would have a chance if Blue chose to attack. She had to believe that wasn't going to happen. She stood firm, her head high. Blue's eyes locked on hers, and she repeated the click and snap of her jaws she'd displayed at Owen. 

"That's right, Blue," she said. She couldn't help the tremor that ran through the words, but she tried to keep her voice as calm as possible. "I'm with Owen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the extended hiatus. I started online classes and they kicked my butt for the first few weeks, but midterms are behind me and I'm going to carve out writing time on the regular now that I'm back in the swing of things. Thank you to anyone who's still with me (and hello to those just finding this fic!) I'm glad you're here.


End file.
